Trust Me, I'm a Doctor
by Alexandria K
Summary: The Dr. Oz Show! A member of Mehmet's studio audience sparks the doctor's interest and makes him feel something he can't explain.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

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><p>I walked into the studio late.<p>

One of the technical directors eyed me warily as I handed him my admission ticket, whispering, "All audience members were to be in their seats no later than 9:40!"

I bit my lower lip nervously.

"Can I still go in?"

The man glanced at a woman with a headset near a video monitor in the back. She nodded.

"Yes, if you hurry. We've only got six minutes till start."

I nodded and thanked him before rushing into the studio. To my great relief, the audience was still talking amongst itself and Dr. Oz was nowhere in sight. I found my seat between two middle-aged women in the front row and sat down, delighted to be on time.

Then, not a minute later, he walked out. The audience screamed with delight at the sight of him.

He wore black slacks with a dark blue dress shirt; his dark hair was combed neatly to the side. He looked a thousand times more stunning in person.

Oz approached the audience in the front row opposite of me and began to shake hands with them, slowly making his way around towards my end of the set. My heart danced in my chest with anticipation. I began to contemplate how I should say hello, how to shake his hand, and where to avert my gaze once we were face to face but, before I knew it, there he was in front of me.

"Hello!" He smiled. "Thank you for coming!" He took my hand, placed it in between both of his and shook it gently. My heart jumped anxiously as he touched me.

Then, he let me go, and moved on to the woman standing next to me.

"Oh, Dr. Oz!" she cried, "I just love your show! You changed my life! Thank you so much!"

The extent of this man's popularity hadn't quite hit me till then.

He replied with some kind words, moved on to the next section, and then walked to the front of the stage. The crowd broke out in applause.

"Hello everyone and welcome to the Dr. Oz show! Today we'll be investigating a topic that's been getting quite a lot of attention lately: genetically modified organisms, or, GMOs."

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><p>About an hour into the taping I began feeling devastatingly bored. The whole thing went by much slower than the actual television show did. There were constant breaks in which the camera crew would adjust itself, props would be moved around the set and periods of time in which Dr. Oz would change into and out of his scrubs.<p>

I began to space out entirely. My eyes followed him as he walked about the stage but I didn't hear much of what was being said.

The woman to the right of me suddenly clasped her hands together.

"Oh God I hope it's me!"

I turned towards her. "Hope what's you?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Um, what do you think? Assistant of the Day!"

She flicked her eyes to a video monitor on the stage and then back to me.

"Oh, of course! I thought you meant something else!"

I tried to conjure a lighthearted laugh to dispel the awkwardness, but the woman turned from me arrogantly.

I sighed.

"Now, let's find out who my assistant of the day is! Remember, my assistant is drawn completely at random. It could be anyone in this audience!"

The crowd replied with a loud round of applause.

"Alright!" He picked up an envelope that had been lying on a table. "Autumn, seat fourteen! Come on up here!"

What? My name was Autumn!

I checked the ticket stub I held in my hand.

"SEAT 14 – ROW 1A"

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><p><strong>AN: So there's chapter one for you! There will definitely be a lot more Oz in the second chapter and more interaction between him and the leading lady. I kind of wrote this on impulse so I hope it has sparked your interest. Leave me some reviews and tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

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><p>Even if the Assistant of the Day segment was only five minutes long, I <em>did not<em> want to be on television! What if I ended up saying something stupid? Or worse, what if people I _knew_ saw me?

My meditations were suspended at the sound of my name.

"Autumn? Aren't you going to assist me?"

I looked up. Dr. Oz stood at the edge of the stage. His hands rested on his hips.

He smiled.

"Well?"

"Y-Yes!" I stood up. "Of course!"

I stumbled nervously toward the stage; my heartbeat raged in my chest. It was so exceptionally loud that I feared he would hear it himself.

When I reached him he took my hand, which didn't help with my nerves, and lead me to the center of the set.

"So, Autumn," He placed one hand on my back. "Today I want to see how much you know about GMOs."

He had olive gray eyes up-close.

"Okay!" I tried to sound enthusiastic. "Let's do it!"

He handed me a white lab coat to put on and then took my hand again. Every touch he imparted was incredibly gentle. I walked with him to a table that had a variety of different foods on it and a sign up above that read "How Much Do You Know?" in big, colorful letters. My anxiety from earlier had almost completely dissipated.

"Autumn," He turned towards me. "Do you think you could help me out with this little experiment?"

I nodded.

"Great, just walk to that platform over there and then I'll instruct you on what to do next." He turned to the audience. "Okay everyone, ready to play How Much Do You Know?"

A loud round of applause was the answer.

"Alright! Remember to help her out if she gets stuck on a question!"

I was feeling slightly more confident now. In fact, the whole thing was starting to feel fun. Dr. Oz's kind disposition made me feel at ease under the pressure of the lights, the cameras, and the audience. So, with self-assurance I walked toward the platform he pointed out to me. Things were going quite well until suddenly I felt I couldn't move my right foot.

"What the hell?" I looked down. "Oh, crap!" The rug I was walking on caught the heel of my pump.

I tried subtly to un-snag the string wrapped around my heel but the thread _would not_ give in! In a last ditch attempt, I forcefully jerked my right leg away from the rug and fell backwards. The audience screamed, the studio flew before my eyes, and I felt an awful pain jolt through my head and back.

* * *

><p>Was I dreaming...? Dead?<p>

I opened my eyes.

"Oh, oh, ow…" I moaned.

Yep, still alive.

My body was in a lot of pain. The back of my head was incredibly sore and my back hurt so badly that I could hardly move. What happened?

With great difficultly I raised myself to a seated position to survey my surroundings. I was lying on a couch inside a small gray room. Inside the room were various stage props like lights, cameras, and a wardrobe closet. I stared, quite dumbfounded, at all the things around me. Then it hit me. I was at The Dr. Oz Show! Suddenly, the door swung open. It was him.

"You're awake!"

Dr. Oz hurried into the room, shutting the door behind him. He was wearing his blue scrubs from the show and carried a cell phone in his hand.

"You took quite the fall out there little lady! Try to lie back down."

I looked at him curiously.

"Fall?"

"You don't remember?" He put one hand behind my back and placed the other around my arm to lower me back down. "You tripped on stage and fell right on your back."

"Oh!" I recollected what happened. "I remember now!"

"Good." He got out the cell phone he was carrying earlier and placed it to his ear. "Hello? She's awake. No, not a first. I will. Right. Alright, goodbye."

"Dr. Oz?"

"You can call me Mehmet."

"Mem-met?"

"Meh-met."

"Is that your name? Mehmet?"

He laughed. "It sure is. It's Turkish."

"Oh." I paused and thought. "Did I ruin the show?"

"Well," He sat down on the edge of the couch. "We decided to cancel the rest of the taping."

Oh great, I _did_ ruin the show. First I show up late, then I slip on stage like an idiot and they have to cancel the taping! I sighed and placed my hands on my eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm an idiot!" I started to sob.

Suddenly, I felt the warmth of his hand on mine. He gently grasped the tips of my fingers and removed them from my eyes. I looked up at him.

His gray eyes were staring intently down at me.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

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><p>"Don't even sweat it, okay?" He patted the back of my hand. "I talked with the director, and we decided to take what we got from this show and combine it with our next segment."<p>

"You can do that?"

"Of course. You should see the crazy things these video editors can do." He let me go and stood up from the couch. "I'm more worried about you than the show. I think we should try to get you to a hospital."

"No! No hospitals!" I exclaimed. "Please, I'll be fine. I don't need to go to a hospital!"

"Alright, alright!" He laughed and again placed a hand on mine. "No hospitals it is, but our medical staff is going to have to examine you. Afterwards, we'll escort you home."

He rose from my side, releasing my hand as he backed away. "If you need anything, I'll be around."

With that he exited.

What a day, what a day. I leaned back into the couch, arching slightly at the pain in my back. Everything that _could_ have gone wrong _did_ go wrong. I placed my hands on either side of my head and massaged my temples.

The medical staff soon followed Mehmet's departure. His staff was composed of two women who immediately had me remove my shirt and proceeded to poke and prod me at various points on my head and back. For the most part they simply asked me the extent of my pain which I, admittedly, lied about. The prospect of being sent to a hospital deterred me from telling them how badly I actually hurt.

After about a half an hour the two women gave me the all clear, and said they would inform Mehmet that I was ready to be taken home. I imagined they would call a taxi for me or a staff member would bus me back to my apartment; either way, the thought of being home sounded too good to be true.

After another moment I heard a light knock on the door.

"Yes?"

Mehmet poked his head inside the room. "Well hey there!"

I blushed for some reason but responded. "Hi!"

"I heard you got the all clear!" I nodded. "Good. Are you ready to get home?"

I laughed with delight. "Oh yes, very much."

"Alright, grab your things and follow me."

He helped me to my feet and I followed him out of the room and into what looked like a behind the scenes area of the show. As I followed behind him, various people waved him goodbye; I simply figured he was leaving soon also.

Exiting the set, we descended a staircase that lead into a dreary parking garage. The sun was visible through spaces in the concrete exterior. It looked well past twelve in the afternoon.

"Um, Mehmet?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

He rolled up his sleeve to examine his watch.

"About three-thirty."

Had it really been that late?

"You can get in on that side."

"What?"

He laughed. "That side. This is my car, over here."

"Wait, what?" I stared at him with a puzzled look on my face. "You're going to drive me home?"

"Of course. This is my fault in a way, I owe you."

_What_? Dr. Oz was going to drive me to my apartment?

"But wait I don't—"

"It's no trouble!" He pulled open the driver side door and stepped into the car. "Please, get in."

I stared at him a moment longer before opening the car door and sitting down.

"Thank you Dr. Oz."

"Mehmet…"

"Mehmet! Thank you Mehmet!"

Again he laughed, then proceeded to turn on the car and back out of the parking garage.

"Like I said before," He turned to me and smiled, "It's no trouble at all. Now, can you direct to where you live from here?"

"Oh, yes! It's about a thirty minute drive though. Is that okay?"

"Of course! I've got nothing left to do today now that tapings over. Besides," he smirked, "I'm always up for a little adventure."

I gazed at him through the corner of my eye as we drove down a side street; it was difficult to believe any of this was really happening. If I was to text someone and tell them I was leisurely taking a car ride with _the_ Dr. Oz, there was no way they'd believe me.

"Do you live in New York?" I asked nervously, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation as well as the importance of the man sitting inches away from me.

"No, I actually live in New Jersey. Do we take Bayard or Eden?"

"Bayard, then get on the freeway and go east until we hit the exit for Redding."

"Alrighty." He switched lanes and sped up to pass a car. "I live in New Jersey, but during tapings I stay in New York. I've got a nice little place here in NYC."

"Oh, do you stay here long?"

"It depends on the show's schedule usually. Once I had to stay here a whole month." He chuckled. "Family wasn't too happy about that. Autumn, where to after Redding?"

"Right on Gray Avenue. Then right again on Ivy Crest. Are you leaving New York soon?"

"There's actually going to be another show on Saturday. I'm not positive but I believe I'll be here another few weeks." He turned toward me. "If you'd like I could get you some tickets for that taping, make up for this one."

"Oh, no, no," I couldn't help but laugh. "No more television for me." He began to laugh with me.

"Fair enough."

For the rest of the way home I couldn't help but steal glances at my driver. His olive skin was fresh and glowing despite his age, and the wrinkles that tinged his features only seemed to heighten the charming perceptiveness of his character. His hair was dark and sleek with hints of gray here and there. His eyes, a dull faded green, appeared warm and kind. The most captivating facet about Mehmet however was not his handsome appearance. It was something more.

When he smiled at me, or laughed, when he glanced toward me and asked with earnest concern, "Are you still feeling okay?", the trueness of his character stunned me. Compassion and intelligence radiated out of him, and the longer I stared the harder it was to look away.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

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><p>Traffic began to slow our journey to my apartment, and as thirty minutes spiraled into fifty, I found myself slowly nodding off. The next thing I felt was a gentle tug on my shoulder.<p>

"Autumn?"

"Mmm?"

"I think you're home."

"Home?" I turned toward Mehmet and wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

"Ethan Circle, right?" He glanced at the apartment complex.

"Yes, that's the one. Thank you!"

Mehmet pushed the unlock button on the car door and reached into the back seat for my things.

"Well, here's your purse and your jacket. Oh," He reached again into the back. "This scarf is yours too?"

"Yes, thank you." I gathered up my things from him, placing the scarf around my neck and draping the purse and jacket around my arm. "I really appreciate this. You didn't have to do this for me. Thank you so much, really."

He smirked and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I told you it was no trouble. Would you like some help getting to your apartment?"

I shook my head.

"No, I should be okay."

I turned toward the car door and placed my fingers around the lever, but paused before opening it. My heartbeat sped up. I wanted this goodbye to be more memorable, for me at least.

I released the lever and turned back toward Mehemet. His emerald eyes regarded me curiously.

"Mehemt?"

"Yes?" He smiled in the warm way he often did.

"Do you think I could...?" I inhaled deeply, trying to swallow my nerves. "Could I…Could I give you a hug?"

He stared at me a minute longer, blinking a couple times as he did. Then, suddenly, he began to laugh.

"Of course you can give me a hug!"

I began to blush and mumbled a quiet, "Oh, thank you."

He smiled and reached both of his arms toward me. Nervously, I leaned into him, placing my arms around his neck.

I soon felt the warmth of his arms wrap around my waist. He pulled me in tightly to him and held me there for a second. I tried to return the gesture of imparting a meaningful hug, but my nerves would not permit me to grasp him too firmly. I held onto him softly as if he were made of glass or snow.

"Thank you." I whispered, and then pulled away from him.

"Anytime."

Now I earnestly meant to exit his car. Pulling the handle and collecting my things, I stepped out and shut the door behind me.

"Bye!" I shouted through the glass window.

"See ya! If you need anything or anything goes wrong you've got the studio's number!"

I waved a final goodbye to Mehmet and then ventured toward my apartment complex.

The whole day had been bizarre, tiring, and yet also strangely wonderful. Even though I had managed to not only make a fool out of myself but also nearly fatally injure my body, spending that brief amount of time with Mehmet seemed to make up for it all. Not to mention the hug I shared with him put me on a temporary euphoric high! Nobody was going to believe this story.

As I walked to the staircase leading up to the upper level apartments a wave of faintness hit me like a concrete brick.

"Oh, god," I cried. "No!"

I was completely losing control of my body. The lightheaded feeling began to engulf me completely.

"Help!" I tried to yell. "Help!"

But I couldn't scream or raise my voice. I couldn't move. My body fell. The cool February concrete greeted my side.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

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><p>A cool breeze wafted over my body. I felt it travel over my cheek and toss strands of hair about my face. The faint murmur of crickets echoed into my ears. I opened my eyes.<p>

I was home.

It was well into the night and I was lying on the couch inside my living room. The patio screen door was open; a light, cold draft filled the room.

I raised myself up from the couch slightly dumbfounded. I had collapsed after arriving at the complex, that much I remembered, but how had I gotten home?

I stood up and surveyed the room but found no trace of anyone. My things, however, were placed neatly on the living room table. A glass of ice water stood there as well. I picked up my purse and grabbed my wallet. I examined it closely, counting the amount of bills inside. Nothing had been stolen.

Who had done this? Had a friend found me? A neighbor? I didn't speak to many people inside the complex after all…

The two doors which separated the living room from the kitchen were closed. A dim yellow light outlined the spaces in between them, so surely there was someone there. Even if this person _had_ helped me, I still had no idea who they were! Some stranger had been my apartment alone with me for hours! I grabbed my phone out of my purse. I could call a friend and have them help me if anything went wrong.

I tapped my phone's button several times. It was dead.

God damn smart phone battery life.

I had to confront this person, but I certainly wasn't going to do it empty handed. I spotted the wooden stick I used to secure the screen door at night lying against the wall. It would serve as a perfect weapon if anyone tried to attack me. With the wooden stick in one hand, I slowly turned the handle of the door. Cautiously, I peeked my head out.

I gasped.

A man sat at my kitchen table. He was resting his head on the palm of his hand. It looked as if he were dozing off to sleep. I knew who this was. Black slacks…a dark blue dress shirt…

It was him.


	6. Chapter Six

_A/N: I'm sorry the last few chapters have been a bit short, things have been a bit busy on my end._ _Nonetheless, please enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Chapter Six<p>

* * *

><p>"Mehmet?" I breathed.<p>

He didn't hear me.

I put down the wooden stick and stepped out of the living room. Approaching him slowly, I realized he was on the brink of falling asleep.

I called his name again, softly, but a little louder.

"Mehmet?"

Instantly he opened his eyes and looked in my direction. My heart sped up again.

"You're awake!"

He raised himself from the table a bit unsteadily and walked up to me.

"Autumn, I'm so sorry," His eyes looked worried and he spoke with an anxious tone. "I know what you're thinking. I know. I had no right to enter your apartment. But please, hear me out."

He inhaled deeply and continued.

"I didn't feel right leaving you after the fall you took, so I swung back around to make sure you got inside okay. When I returned I saw you lying on the floor at the edge of a staircase! Since you seemed so apprehensive about hospitals, I thought I could take you back to your apartment instead. The number of your place was on the key, so I-"

I placed my hand softly on his shoulder.

He stopped speaking.

"I'm not angry at you." I offered a warm smile. "Really! Thank you so much."

Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck. Immediately, his hands enveloped my waist in return.

I was slightly surprised at my own boldness. Before, in the car, I could barely allow myself to touch him, but now I held him tightly in my arms. The feeling of his hands securely around my waist, coupled with being pressed so closely to his body stirred a pleasurable sensation within me. A bit _too_ pleasurable of a sensation.

I took that as a queue and released him. He did the same. We couldn't have been like that for more than a couple of seconds, but it had felt like much longer.

"Autumn, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, why?"

"You're awfully red."

Oh god. How embarrassing.

"Oh! Um, that just…happens sometimes. Yeah."

He laughed.

"It's getting a little late." He glanced at his watch. "I usually phone my wife around this time."

"Well, I'm doing okay now. I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have. I've wasted quite a bit of your time today after all."

He shook his head. "It wasn't a waste."

"Still, I'm sure there were other things you could have been doing."

He let out a sigh and placed his hand around his chin contemplatively.

"Look," he began, "I know you dislike hospitals, but the fact that you collapsed troubles me. The injury you sustained on set could be a lot more serious than we thought."

"No, no! I'm sure I'm alright."

In fact, I wasn't sure I was alright. The fact that I passed out worried me as well. Still, there was no way in hell I was going to a hospital!

"Stubborn?' He asked with a smirk.

"Oh, you have no idea."

We both laughed.

"If you won't go to a hospital, at least call a friend and have them look over you tonight."

"Deal."

I shook his hand and we both smiled.

"Alright, I should get going then." He turned and gathered up some of his things that were strewn across the kitchen table.

As he placed his wallet in his pocket and positioned one arm into the sleeve of his jacket, I quietly studied his profile. He was unconventionally attractive with sharp, handsome features and a slim strong body. I recalled, with slight embarrassment, feeling the strength of his arms as they were draped around me earlier.

After collecting his things he returned to my side. I walked him to front door and opened it, showing him out.

"Thanks again, Mehmet. I really owe you for all of this. If you hadn't taken me here who knows what could have happened."

He smiled and took my hand, clasping it gently between his.

"There's no need to thank me."

I sighed internally. This man was just too charming.

"Ah, but before I leave," He let go of my hand and reached into his pants pocket. "Here."

In his hand was a piece of folded paper. I took it from him.

"It's my cell number." He pulled out his phone and waved it at me. "I know you have the studio's number, but if there's an emergency I'd rather you call me directly."

"Thanks. I promise I won't go selling it on eBay or anything."

He chuckled warmly and took a few steps away from me.

"Alright, have a good night. Be sure to call your friend, too!"

"Okay!"

I waved him goodbye. He waved back as his figure descended the stairway, eventually going out of sight.

I stepped back into my apartment and locked the door. Pressing myself against the wall, I let out a long sigh. It had truly been an unbelievable day. Remembering the tiny piece of paper in my hands, I opened it, and read the number aloud.

A melancholy feeling lingered inside my chest at him leaving.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

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><p>Despite Mehmet's request, I didn't call a friend that night. The idea of having to recount the bizarre incident which occurred that day to someone sounded simply exhausting. So, not long after he left, I treaded straight into my room and collapsed on my bed. I fell into a dead sleep and did not wake until the morning.<p>

The following three days I spent at home. My boss, Charlie, was an understanding guy and believed me when I told him I had taken a harsh blow to the head. He seemed especially alarmed at the fact that I blacked out twice the previous day. More so because he feared I would collapse whilst bussing tables rather than because he was concerned about my health, I guessed.

"I would just hate for you to fall and drop something on a customer…or injure yourself. That's important too."

Oh, Charlie.

Today, the fourth day of my absence, I decided to pick up my phone and place Mehmet's number into it. This wasn't the first time he had glided through my mind during these past four days, though. The piece of paper containing his number, I fingered continuously, often unfolding it, dialing his number, then thinking against it and folding it up again.

Now, however, I was serious. I needed to contact him. My number wasn't in his possession, and the only way it would become so was by leaving him a text or a call.

I swallowed my nervous energy and began composing a message.

_'Hi Mehmet! It's Autumn. This is my number. I just thought I'd let you know I'm doing well and haven't collapsed or anything since that night. Head still hurts a bit, but besides that I'm feeling great.'_

I hesitated briefly, read the text over for any spelling errors, and then tapped the send button. My chest quivered anxiously as the phone dinged to alert me it was successfully sent. I sat there for awhile, staring at my phone. Perhaps I shouldn't have texted him.

He told me to give him a call if there was an emergency, not to iniate a conversation with small talk. Still, I couldn't help myself. Suddenly my phone chimed loudly, startling me.

He texted me back. I opened the message.

_'Perfect! Did you ever end up going to see a doctor?'_

I quickly tapped away back to him.

_'No, I didn't. I'm sorry!'_

Just as quickly, he replied.

_'Well, I still think you should see one, but mostly I'm glad you're feeling better.'_

Without thinking, I responded to him with what had been on the back of my mind ever since he left Sunday night.

_'I still owe you for what you did for me. Can I take you out to coffee or dinner sometime?'_

This answer didn't come quickly like the others did. Immediately I regretted what I'd said. What was I thinking? Asking _Dr. Oz_ out to _dinner_?

I sat back on the couch and shifted uneasily. Periodically I reread the last message I sent, and each time I felt an overwhelming nervous feeling wash over me. Suddenly, a ding.

_'Okay. When are you free?'_

I gasped with giddy surprise.

_'I'm free Sat. & Sun.'_

Another quick ding.

_'How about Saturday night?_

I smiled.

_'Yeah, that sounds great. I'll pick you up? 6 o'clock? Just send me your address.'_

Another longer pause followed, but eventually he replied.

_'6 sounds perfect. I'll just wait out front of the New York Palace hotel. Do you know where that is?'_

The New York Palace? One of the most luxurious and expensive hotels in NYC?

_'Yeah, I do. I'll see you then?'_

I could feel my heart racing in my chest.

_'Yes, see you then. I look forward to it!'_

I let out a relieved exhale. The smile on my face from earlier only grew larger as I reflected on the situation that just transpired. He had accepted my invitation! I was going to have dinner with him! I jumped off the couch and pranced around the living room, eventually dancing into the kitchen and waving my phone around happily. My joyful celebration was cut short by a stark realization.

Mehmet had only accepted my offer because he was being polite.

He did not harbor a deep desire to see me in the way I did for him. Why would he? Plus, he was, after all, one of the kindest people I'd ever met. The awareness of this dampened my enthusiasm slightly, but still, I was excited. The smile quickly returned to my face and my celebration soon continued.

After sashaying around my kitchen two more times I undressed and jumped into the shower. I lathered up my body with soap and tilted my head back into the warm stream of water. A shower at night was always refreshing. As I ran my slender fingers over myself with the soapy lather I thought…of Mehmet.

Whoa! No, Autumn. Don't think about that!

I shook my head, as if to shake off those…thoughts…then rinsed myself off and turned off the shower. I had to work an early shift at the restaurant tomorrow and it was already ten o'clock at night. I threw on some pajamas quickly and slid into bed.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

><p>Work the following day was a nightmare. Not only was it a Friday, which meant an influx of customers signaling the weekend rush, but I was also a complete mess. I manged to get four orders wrong <em>and <em>spill a margarita on an old woman's lap. Needless to say, I didn't make many tips.

Charlie, who had been eying me disapprovingly for the majority of the day, approached me with his arms crossed from behind the service counter.

"What is the deal, Lakewood?" Charlie liked to address us by our last names. He'd make a better drill sargent than a restaurant manger, in my opinion. "I already gave you a four day leave. If your head injury is that serious maybe you should try going to a hospital."

I shook my head furiously.

"N-no hospitals!"

In earnest it wasn't my head that was causing all my troubles. It was the fact that tomorrow, Saturday night, I would be sitting face-to-face with a certain green-eyed man with a medical license and a daytime TV show.

"I'm sorry Charlie. I'll get it together. Promise."

Charlie sighed and returned to his place behind the counter.

I felt bad for disappointing him. He was a good boss and took a lot of pride in managing the restaurant. Still, I couldn't shake the anxiety that had built up inside me. Days had passed since I'd last seen _him_ after all. The thought of observing his olive eyes again filled me with a great deal of good and bad agitation.

* * *

><p>At 10 P.M. my shift was over. Outside the night air was chilly and the exposed areas of my flesh tingled in the cool darkness. I graciously greeted the biting cold, as I would trade the stuffy air of the restaurant for a crisp New York night any day. Originally I intended to work until closing to make up for my terrible service, but Charlie was very insistent that I leave before I, "run the damn place out of business".<p>

Oh, how I love Charlie.

The stress and tension from work, coupled with the physical fatigue from being on my feet all day, left me drained. The moment I arrived home I knew I wouldn't have the strength to travel down the hallway and into my room. Instead, I allowed myself to gently collapse onto the fringe of my carpet. The fuzzy texture tickled my nose and the side of cheek, but the overpowering heaviness of sleep managed to circumvent those annoying sensations. Ere long I felt myself drifting on the edge of slumber, and in almost an instant it seemed darkness turned to light. I soon felt the quiet luster of sunlight caressing my lids.

As I opened my eyes, awareness filled me with sensation. I was lying in the living room near my couch. The patio shades were open from the previous morning and the sunlight was bright and penetrating. I strained my eyes to glimpse at the wall opposite of me. The digital clock hanging there read _11:47_.

How had it gotten so late?

I quickly scrambled to my feet. My head began to ache immediately and my back followed suit. Perhaps falling asleep on the floor wasn't the best idea ever. Rubbing my sore head, I sighed and marched to the bathroom. One look into the mirror made me kick myself again for falling asleep on the floor.

"Holy hell."

I placed my fingers underneath my eyes

"What's with these-these...dark circles?!"

I released a quiet groan. Of all the days to look a zombie, today had to be the day didn't it? With a defeated sigh I removed myself from the mirror and climbed into the shower. Sleeping in until noon, wrecking my body, looking like I got buried alive...these were all things that weren't supposed to happen today.

* * *

><p>Despite the unfortunate start, the rest of the afternoon went by relatively smoothly. A few Advil stunted my pain, my dark circles disappeared after a little skin therapy, and my limited amount of preparation time kept my thoughts engaged. It had been nearly two years since I'd last been out with a man, so, needless to say, there was much grooming to be done. My avid concentration on polishing myself to perfection allowed me to momentarily block out the nervous, negative thoughts that were previously swirling around my mind.<p>

I shaved, waxed, plucked, conditioned, painted, and primped for a good few hours. After finally finishing the last of my preparations, cleaning up the shape of my brows, I looked into the mirror and smiled.

I looked really...pretty.

It wasn't as if I previously let myself go, just that I hadn't refined myself to this level in quite some time. Dating and relationships had been off my radar after my previous breakup, so this much sprucing up hadn't been needed in a long while.

I twirled with enticement before the mirror, taking pleasure in the smoothness of my skin and the delicateness of my lean frame. I decided to dress myself in a white dress with a sweetheart neckline and an exposed back. It suited my sylphlike figure perfectly. My hair was down in simple, glossy dark waves that fell bellow my collarbone. I applied makeup minimally, as not to give the impression I was trying too hard to look nice. This wasn't a date, after all.

My heart suddenly felt limp.

_This wasn't a date._

My elation plummeted around my feet in shattered pieces.

Mehmet was a married man. He said he had children. His choice to see me tonight was most likely made begrudgingly on his part, as not to seem rude. He was a nice person and the acceptance of my invitation was merely a reflection of his character. There were probably hundreds of other things he could be doing on a Saturday night. After all, he was famous! Going out to dinner with some stupid girl probably wasn't on the top of his list. In fact, I was probably a simple afterthought to him. Surely he hadn't spent a large chunk of his day preparing to see me as I had done for him.

I glanced wearily at my phone. It was forty minutes to six. I had to leave soon.

Slipping on my navy pea coat and some nude heels, I headed out of my apartment to my car. After setting the GPS on my phone to his location and sending him a text to alert him I was on my way, I began the drive. Traffic that evening was heavy, so I was glad I chose to leave early.

As I slowly eased through the streets of NYC, I reflected on my feelings and decided there was no point in feeling bad about my excitement. Attraction toward another person is inevitable. The thrill that accompanies the thought of such person is equally uncontrollable. I mean, lets face it, Mehmet Oz is handsome, smart, kind, and successful. Any girl would be falling all over herself at the thought of spending an evening with him. It just so happens I was that lucky girl.

I smirked to myself and then glanced over to my phone at the sound of a buzzing noise. He had replied to my message from earlier.

_'Wonderful. I'm outside waiting.'_

It was eight minutes to six at that point, and the hotel he was staying at was in my immediate vision. Upon reaching it, I pulled over to the side near the pickup area. It was bustling that night and lit up like a Christmas tree. Its enormous neo-Italian structure towered over the tiny people bunched up outside. Tons of luxurious looking cars, and even a limo, stood in wait for their respective guests. My tiny Volkswagen Golf was dwarfed next to these fashionable cars and that leviathan of a building.

As I peered out the passenger side window, I spotted his familiar form. He was sitting on a bench near the front entrance with his arms crossed in an attempt to keep warm. I quickly picked up my phone to tell him I was in the small blue car out front. A moment after I sent the message I saw his figure rise. He was quickly advancing toward me. My heart quickened. My breathing sped up.

This was it.

I hit the unlock switch. I felt the car move as he opened the driver's side door. I watched timidly as he seated himself, closed the door, and turned to me. I locked eyes with him as he smiled at me and said, breathlessly, "Hello, again".

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hi everyone, I'm so sorry it's been so long. Please forgive me! __;_; __Life is a hectic roller coaster. But this story is definitely still in progress! Btw, the next chapter will be very Oz and Autumn centric, yay! R&R are appreciated as always, thanks for your support._


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

><p>"Mehmet," I gasped with excitement. "It's so nice to see you again."<p>

We both smiled at one another before leaning in for a hug. My mind swam as his right arm curled around my shoulder and his left hand found my own, giving it a friendly squeeze. It felt nice to be close to him again. To smell the warm sent of his cologne and benign fervor of his aura. The friendliness that exuded off him left me feeling comfortable and safe. Secretly I wished we could spend the duration of the evening just like this.

"I'm sorry to have left you out in the cold like that," I said as we parted. "Were you waiting long?"

He shook his head.

"Not at all. You were right on time." A gentle smile reached his eyes.

I sighed in relief.

"Good. I felt so guilty after seeing you huddled on the bench like that."

He offered a soft laugh and began removing his overcoat.

"I'm just a wimp when it comes to the cold is all." He flashed me a crooked smile. "To be honest, I'm more of warm weather person."

As I merged onto the main road from the hotel drop-off area, I had to fight the urge to steal another glance at Mehemt. I wanted to study him. To gaze at every curve of his body, trace every angle of his face with my eyes. Surely he wouldn't notice if I stole a few little peeks, would he? Slowing down at a stop light, I resolved and quietly shifted my eyes to where he sat beside me.

He looked stunning.

His sharp features were currently concentrating on relieving himself of his coat. As he unfastened the front portion I was able to study his attire in more detail. It was a black dress shirt paired with black slacks. A classic choice. The dark attire only accentuated the beauty of his olive skin and striking green eyes. It also made him look, to be blunt, _awfully_ enticing. I mean sure, I'd seen him dressed professionally before, but there was something about the way he looked tonight that struck...a chord inside me. A chord very _deep_ inside me.

"Autumn?"

I looked up to find him regarding me curiously. A hint of amusement gleamed in the depths of his eyes.

"Yes?" I gasped.

"Your light is green."

"Oh!"

I immediately hit the gas a little too hard.

"Autumn?" He said again, a little tentatively this time.

Quietly, I groaned. _Please_ don't ask why I was staring at you like an idiot.

"Yes?" I shifted my gaze and met his.

"You look very nice tonight."

My mouth hung slightly ajar at his words. _He thought I looked nice?_

"Thank you." I paused for a moment to formulate my thoughts. "So do you. You look really great."

My face began to burn. Was that a little too forward sounding? Timidly, I lifted my eyes to his. Where I expected to find slight disdain at my careless words and actions, I only found his familiar smile.

()

"I have a reservation." I repeated to the thin bald waiter at the front desk.

He was staring stupidly past me at Mehmet.

"Res-or-vation." I mouthed for the third time.

The man finally looked down at me, blinking with realization as he did. I glanced over my shoulder at Mehmet apologetically. He looked thoroughly amused.

"Yes, yes of course. I'm sorry. The name?"

"Autumn." I grumbled.

"Yes, please follow me."

Grabbing two menus, the man led us through the restaurant to a booth in the back. It was somewhat secluded from everyone else. Perhaps the man realized it would be a good idea to conceal Dr. Oz from people who might recognize him. _He_ obviously did after all. Reaching the booth, Mehmet strategically seated himself facing the back wall while I sat opposite of him, facing the interior of the restaurant.

"Drinks to start?"

Mehmet indicated toward me with nod of his head.

"Oh, I'll have..." I quickly picked up the menu and scanned the alcohol section. A drink would certainly do me well right about now. "How about a glass of Frascati please?"

The waiter nodded, wrote down my order, and turned to Mehmet.

"For you?"

"A glass of Frascati sound great. I'll have one too."

He wrote another little note on his writing pad and shoved it in his pocket. "I will be back shortly with your drinks and some focaccia." He stole another eager glance at Mehmet before leaving the table.

"Does that happen a lot to you?" I asked, looking up at him from the menu.

He folded his arms on the the table and shrugged.

"Yes, often. I don't mind it though." Another one of his crooked smiles crossed his features. "They're only curious."

He was right. Besides, I wasn't exactly the picture of eloquence or discretion when I first met him either. I still wasn't even now, in fact.

"It doesn't ever get frustrating?" I inquired further.

He looked past me in contemplation.

"It does. It was overwhelming at first. I felt guilty for subjecting my family to it." A hurt look passed briefly through his eyes. "But fame is something you learn to adjust to."

It was strange to think of the kind of life Mehmet lived. A life where you couldn't leave the house without people stopping you, staring at you, or snapping pictures. Whether it was a trip to the grocery store or a private vacation, people like him were constantly under the public eye. Much of what he and his family did was probably constantly scrutinized.

As I gazed at his pensive visage, our bald little waiter suddenly appeared again at the edge of our table. He was balancing a tray with two wine glasses and basket of focaccia on his right hand. Under his left arm was a bottle of Frascati. Placing the glasses and bread basket down, he popped open the wine bottle and poured us both a glass of the white wine.

"Have we decided what to order?"

Mehmet went first, ordering an Italian vegetable dish. Certainly not surprising seeing as how he was the supposed poster child for health living. I on the other hand ordered an herb pasta with a side salad. Hopefully the salad would make up for all those carbohydrates in his eyes.

"Very good. Your food will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," we both said in unison as he began to retreat. Our eyes met over the table and we both grinned.

"This is a very nice place... I'd be happy to help pay-"

"No, no, I've got it. Don't worry."

He cocked an eyebrow.

"Still very stubborn I see." He said with a smile.

"Oh yes, stubborn as ever." I said, a slight challenge in my voice.

Something in his eyes at that moment sent a thrill through my body. But what was it? I wasn't sure. If I lingered on the feeling for too long I was sure I'd just end up turning pink.

"You aren't hot?"

_WHAT?_

"No, what-what do you mean?"

He pointed at my peacoat. "It's kind of warm in here isn't it?"

Oh. I thought he meant something else entirely. Boy, did I need to start chugging my wine.

"Yes, it is." I chuckled to dispel my nervousness. "I didn't notice I still had it on."

Carefully, I began to remove my navy coat, revealing the white lace dress underneath. I placed the discarded coat next to my seat with a sigh and looked back up to him. For a split second I caught his leafy eyes observing me. I watched as they caressed the bare skin of shoulders and traced the deep neckline of my dress. Swallowing slightly, I pretended to fidget with my purse. Perhaps he was just looking at my dress? _Yes_. Of _course_ he was. There's nothing wrong at looking at someone's outfit! It was obvious I was projecting my desires onto his actions. He had a wife. He had kids. I needed to get my head out of the clouds.

()

"Berkeley?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. "That's a great school. How long ago did you graduate?"

I took another sip of wine then answered, "Couple years ago. Four I think."

"Four?" His eyebrows shot up again. "How old are you Autumn?"

"Twenty-five as of January." I said, proudly.

The look on his face made me giggle slightly. He looked surprised and almost...relived?

"You could pass for nineteen," he said with a chuckle.

"I get that a lot," I admitted.

"What was your area of study?"

Pushing his now empty plate aside, he placed his elbow on the table and rested his face on the base of his palm. Olive eyes watched me under the think arch of his brows. His lips were parted slightly. My attention was entirely his. But how could I tell him my major? Compared to what he'd studied, my studies were laughable.

"Art history." I winced, feeling all my muscles contract in embarrassment.

Mehmet would surely think it was a stupid thing to study. Everyone else seemed to anyway. I remember the way my ex reacted when I uttered the words 'art history' to him. '_So according to that choice, I guess your life plans include folding burritos at Taco Bell and flipping burgers at McDonalds?' _Sure it was a joke, but that didn't make it less painful. Now that I think of it I guess he was right. Look at me, I _do _work in food service! Oh, brother.

"How interesting."

My eyes shot up to his, wide with surprise. It wasn't his words that struck me. No, it wasn't what he said. It was the way he said it. It was...genuine. Genuine interest. Genuine _admiration_.

"You don't think it's, well, stupid? It's not practical at all. I regret studying it to be honest. It was a huge mistake."

He was quiet for a moment. Both hands had now migrated to the area underneath his chin. His eyes were fixed intently on me.

"Did you enjoy studying it?"

I paused. Did I?

"Yes."

"Then it wasn't a mistake."

I suddenly felt melancholy. College was a touchy subject for me. It brought to light all the things I never did with my life. All the things I planned on doing but never did. Going to grad school, getting my masters, working at a prestigious museum...it was too late now. Or at least it _felt_ too late. My feelings must have reflected on my face because, not a minute after the words left my mouth, I felt two warm hands grab hold of wrist.

I gasped as his warm fingers enveloped my hand. Slowly, he slid my arm towards his end of the table. Placing one of his palms under mine and the other on top, he cradled my hand his own. I watched in awe, my mouth slightly ajar, as he touched me. His hands were so big compared to mine, and so rough.

"Autumn, look at me." My eyes immediately flew up to meet his soft green orbs. "You have nothing to regret."

My chest tightened. I wanted to cry. This man was so-so _kind_. And his eyes. There was so much warmth, so much depth. The glow of kindness that emanated off of his flesh was almost blinding.

I swallowed hard and pushed back the tears that were threatening to form.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice slightly hoarse.

As I looked down at our intertwined fingers, I couldn't help but notice the golden ring on his left index finger.


End file.
